Numb
by achildofthestars
Summary: Brennan's numb, an empty shell of who she was. Booth holds her, knowing it's every bit his fault. Inspired by Coldplay's The Scientist, but not a songfic.


**A/N: so this came to me as i was listening to coldplay's the scientist. i immediately began writing this, and now it's finished, done in haze of pure insanity probably. anways, you guys are the reviewers, so review please.**

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_Tell you I'm sorry. __Tell me your secrets. Ask me your questions. __Nobody said it was easy. __Questions of science. __Come back and haunt me._

_I'm losing you_, he says to the darkness. Silence is all that he hears and he doesn't move. He waits for her breaths as they come evenly in and evenly out. The moon filters just slightly enough through the window that if he were to turn, he'd find her watching him without seeing him. But he doesn't turn around. He keeps staring at the wall before him, telling himself he will stay as long as it takes before she comes back.

His voice fades in her memory before being lost completely. She never takes her eyes off of the ceiling, counting the invisible cracks. Her mind is running on empty, moving from one subject to another without meaning. She thinks of the Jane Doe lying on her examining table, waiting for someone to tell her story of how she died. Her family is waiting for her. But she won't be coming home. She won't be coming home.

Minutes go by, him sitting on the edge of her bed, her lying in the bed that keeps her captive. He sighs, his shoulders sagging, before he gasps for air that he doesn't know he needs.

She hears him trying, but she doesn't move. He killed her brother.

_They're running, trying to gain the distance between Russ and Max. He tries to tell her to stop, but she pushes forward. A fire is shot and strikes her shoulder before she falls to the ground. He doesn't flinch. His gun withdrawn, he takes aim at the man who is her father and fires his weapon that he knows better than his body. Her father will be dead at his hand, but he can live with that. But he's wrong. Russ steps in the line, shielding the man he loves, and jerks in the air as he holds uselessly to his father. _

His head in his hands, he won't forgive himself. He's broken her. He's pushed her beyond any point he can help her. He's betrayed her like every person before him has. But he won't leave her all the same. She's been with him since the beginning, he'll be with her until the end.

_I'm sorry,_ he whispers to the cold air around them. Of all the people in the world, she's the one that makes him clean. When he's with her, his past never happened. When she talks, he only hears her. She makes him the man he is, not the man he was. He stands then, and when he looks at her form under the thin sheets, he blinks. This is not his Bones. This was someone else. A woman too scared to go on, to lost to find her way, to tired to fight back. He crawls over the bed, not caring what she thinks, or how this will look in the morning. He goes slowly, unsure of what she will do. Finally, he sits cross-legged beside her limp form. He pushes the hair from her face in a slow caress. As much as he knows he should leave, he can't leave her. She's what makes him good. He's too selfish to let that go.

Though she feels his hands, she doesn't feel it like she should. It's a pressure, nothing more. It's cold, not warm. Her body doesn't move a centimeter, she doesn't exhale her breath, she doesn't do anything. She lies there, trying to forget herself. She senses movement, but she doesn't fight it. His arms must be lifting her because she knows she can't move on her own. Even though she can tell she's pressed to his body in his lap, she feels nothing. A pressure on her back, holding her close to him, another pressure against her head, keeping her to his chest, is all that registers.

Feeling her so removed, he finds himself breaking. He's done this to her. The monster that is him, has killed her. _Tell me your secrets. Ask me your questions, _he whispers against her small ear. Pulling her closer to him, he wills her to say anything to him. He wants to see her move, to feel her breathe, to watch her live. She doesn't. He's holding a ghost, a memory, a shadow of who she was. He'd give her the truth to any question she'd ask. He'd tell her every life he's stolen, every bullet he'd ever dropped, every lie he'd ever told. If she would only ask him.

The dullness fades away as he speaks into her ear again. _Nobody said it was easy._ Asking him questions wouldn't help anything. She knows who he is, and that's enough for her right now. She keeps her secrets hidden, though. She keeps them where no one can judge her and no one can hurt her with them. Locked away, they lie within her, waiting for her to die so they can be forgotten forever. Telling him would be the hardest for her to do, and so she doesn't. She sleeps wakingly, holding onto her sanity by a sheer thread of what he calls faith.

He never thought it would be this hard. Her heart beating slowly against his own, he promises that if she makes it out, he'll leave her alone. He promises God that he will stay away from her, as long as He saves her from him now.

_Her scream echoes in his ears as the young man falls to the ground at his father's feet. The older man pauses, staring at the man drowning in blood, before retreating a step back. A second too late, however, because the second bullet fires from Booth's gun and launches straight into the man's head, making him stand erect for one brief beautiful moment before crashing. _

_I need you, Bones. Questions of science. You._ He closes his eyes, feeling her short breath on his neck. The coldness of her body is becoming warmer and he tells himself that it's because she's fighting. Gently rocking her, he concentrates on the two of them. He wills her to be the woman he knows and loves. He wills her to forgive him. He wills her to cry. He wants anything but the shell of who she's become.

His voice becomes clearer as he tells her he needs her. She knows he didn't mean to kill Russ. He was after Max, but it had happened too soon. He'd told her that he wouldn't hurt Russ, and she had believed him. The shot came though, but it wasn't his fault. It was her father's. Of that, she was certain. She'll never forget watching him fall, dying for their father, dying for her. And her, dying with him-every last piece of her.

_I'm staying, Brennan. Until you come back and haunt me, I'm here...waiting. _A tear escapes his eye as he hoarsely tries to give her any incentive to come back to him. He wants her to come to him and absolve him. He wants to see her face not full of hate for him. He wants to touch her without her recoiling from him. So he will. He'll wait for as long as it takes, even if it breaks him, even if it curses him.

Her breath catches suddenly and she finds herself needing air so desperately that she jerks into him. She feels his arms pulling her back, trying to help her breathe. The air rushes into her mouth like fire catching onto dry tall grass in summer, scalding, all consuming, vengeful, beyond control, and she breathes. She clings to him, trying to control herself, only to find that he's controlling her. Looking up at him, she sees him for the first time. And for the first time since her brother fell, she cries.

She cries into his chest, and he doesn't stop her. He holds her lovingly, giving her all that she needs. It's a start, a step, a beginning. Her sobs tell him she's through the worst. Her gasps tell him she's holding on. Her tears tell him she's alive. His prayers are answered, and he knows what he'll do when she's ready. He'll leave her, like he said he would.

_I'm sorry_, he whispers to her again, only this time he knows she hears him. This time, she's with him. As the silence fills the room, he doesn't want to let her go, but he does. He has to fulfill his promise for her.

She feels him lying her down on the bed again. Tired,she doesn't object. But in his last touch upn her brow, she senses that he's gone. He's preparing to leave her, probably for forever_. Ask me your questions_, she whispers to his back, unsure if he hears her.

He stills, hands shaking from fear and guilt. Turning, he gazes upon her, knowing he loves her. A step forward, and he lets his fingers brush over her still warming fingers. Minutely, her fingers curl upward in an effort to capture his. Instead of him breaking her, she ends up breaking him with that single motion.


End file.
